


for in these eyes there's never enough light to blind me

by tuomniia



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: F/F, Other, Pining, Yearning, all that, typical a du mortain stuff, u know - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:01:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29474391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuomniia/pseuds/tuomniia
Summary: Gentle pining, fluff, yearning. Cam being a giant lesbian sap about her eyes. This is purely self-indulgent content where my love of colour really just slaps you in the face. enjoy. :)
Relationships: Detective/Ava du Mortain, Female Detective/Ava du Mortain
Kudos: 4





	for in these eyes there's never enough light to blind me

“So what’s your favourite colour?” Farah asks, leaning across the side-table and grinning with child-like interest.  
  
Cameron smiles back, though they lean away from her. Unhappy to have their space invaded so suddenly. She’d been asking them questions like this all night. Favourite animal, first memory, favourite season, worst pet peeve. They were happy to indulge her, though they aren’t so sure they love being the subject of her attention. 

Unfortunately, the rainstorm that rages outside, the one that bangs against the walls of their apartment and rattles the windows, had knocked out the electricity. So, they were without internet, video games, or television. And Cameron doesn’t own a single picture book, only a small collection of novels. Which means, of course, that Farah is going to be extra Farah-like. 

Candlelight flickers and casts long, dancing shadows through the dark room and across Farah’s gentle features, bright even in the darkness. They don’t mind Farah’s energy, they even quite like it. Have come to rely on it, in many ways.  
  
Cameron sighs and taps their lip in thought, “I don’t know. I’m not five. Have you considered asking me what agency I go through to do my taxes instead?”   
  
Farah scowls deeply at the suggestion. “Come on, no one cares about that. Seriously. What’s your favourite colour?”  
  
They shrug, “I don’t know that I have one.”  
  
She purses her lips in thought. “Everyone has a favourite colour. They just don’t think about it. So think. What’s your favourite colour?”   
  
Cameron rolls their eyes, but looks around the room for inspiration.

They’re all gathered in their apartment’s living-room—Unit Bravo— scattered about in the usual places. Morgan is basically a shadow creature in the farthest corner, fiddling with her lighter. Ava is seated in the recliner, nearest the window, though she’s leaned forward to gaze thoughtfully down at the coffee table. Very obviously _not_ reclining. Nat, across from Ava and on the love seat, is mirroring her. A puzzle lays scattered in front of them, and they’re picking at the pieces and making slow progress. Cameron sits on the opposite end of the couch, next to Nat. Tucked comfortably against the arm with their favourite blanket over their lap. Farah had pulled up Cameron’s desk chair and is reclining back in it as casually as ever, though she can and does tilt the chair close to Cameron’s face often. They hope she’ll topple over, but they doubt it’ll actually happen.

The _excuse_ had been that Unit Bravo came over to just hang out, to wait out the tempest that rages unusually harsh outside. Though Cameron strongly suspects it was so that Farah could bother them, and not Morgan, who had looked close to throttling Farah by the time they all showed up on their doorstep. Dripping wet and fuming, she’d shoved past Farah and found the darkest corner to get away. Thankfully, she’s now in a much better mood.

Less strongly, they suspect that Ava had been worried and had dragged the rest of the team through the rain to make sure Cameron was safe.   
  
They were safe, of course. But the relief painted over Ava’s features when Cameron answered the door had dissolved any discontent at having their quiet evening alone disturbed. Besides, they always loved having the unit around.   
  
They smile to themselves at the recent memory, watching Nat and Ava fuss over the puzzle on their coffee table. Silent in their teamwork. Ava stretches forward to snatch a piece just out of casual reach, and Cameron’s gaze follows the movement automatically.

Candlelight flickers across Ava’s face like they do Farah’s. Only it catches all her hard angles and softens them with warm amber light. Taking shards and smoothing out the cutting edges, as the sea does to broken glass. The blue shadows cast by the flame stretch and sway over the corners of her mouth. The pitch of it ghosts over her lips, kissing them feather-light.

Emotion akin to jealously rolls uncomfortably in their stomach. It’s strange, they think. To be jealous of a shadow. But they are. They want to kiss her lips as the darkness does. To feel the curve of them under their fingertips. Revel in how they’d move against their own. The taste of her breath, hot in their mouth. Commit it all to memory, and then learn it all over again.

They can’t. They know that they can’t. That Ava won’t allow it. But still, they want to.

Oh, how they want to.

This feeling frightens them, and they’re not ready to admit to it out loud. A sensation so private, that they barely know it exists themselves. Just a shy, timid thing that they aren’t eager to bring into the light just yet. Afraid that if they do, it will bite.

She isn’t watching Cameron back, too engrossed in the puzzle. If she’s noticed Cameron’s lingering gaze, she gives no indication of it.   
  
Ava smiles at something that Nat says, and glances up at her to reply. Her mouth moves easily; there is nothing to be guarded when she’s talking to Nat. Ava speaks to Cameron like that sometimes too, and the warmth of it reaches deep under Cameron’s ribs and squeezes their heart pleasantly. They don’t hear her words, not really. They’re too enraptured by the entirety of her. Of Ava.

Flickering light catches in her eyes, glinting brightly. A precious stone tucked away in the dim. It’s too dark for them to see her eyes with any clarity, but they know their colour. Has committed every hue that they turn to memory and are evoked with practised ease.

There is— winter lichen, covered in frost and glittering, surrounded by only white. Cold, but bright. Enticing a gentle touch with its rough edges and fragile textures.

Or rich, plentiful. A tide pool hidden below the sea; except when the sun has set, and all that’s left is violet sky. Revealing itself only as the water retreats.

And the mist that fills the streets near the edge of town. After it’s rained. Muted, consuming. Appearing from between the trees so slow that one might find themselves lost before they realize what’s happened.

Perhaps to anyone else, they’d all be the same. Nothing more than a paint swatch from a hardware store. A few uninteresting similar shades to be harmlessly mulled over.

They feel a familiar fondness for all of them, though. The colours. For these and for more.

Their favourite, however, is the tint of the early light, when the sun chases the coldness away. There is nothing that could ever even dream of coming close to the soulful warmth that is seized in the peach glow of dawn.

This, they know, is the one that will always make their breath catch. It spreads its curling tendrils between Cameron’s bones, blooms tender petals from within the rifts left by crooked scars. Brings relieving clarity to all of their darkest corners.

“Green.” They declare with conviction, turning back to Farah who is observing Cameron with a slow grin. Her teeth glint menacingly in the darkness.   
  
“Like your name?” She asks innocently, grinning wider.  
  
“Sure.” Cameron smirks back. “Like my name.”

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @tuomniia


End file.
